


Awkward

by secretlyHipster



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Gen, Humanstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-04
Updated: 2012-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-28 22:22:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/312790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretlyHipster/pseuds/secretlyHipster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because it was always awkward when someone asked to sit next to you on the bus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Awkward

It was always awkward when someone asked to sit next to you.  
She would normally shrug, or nod and avert her eyes, or on the rarest of occasions say, “sure.” She didn’t mean to be rude, just aloof. Everything about her was dismissive, a cold shoulder.  
That was the first thing Kanaya noticed about the girl on the bus. When she spoke, the words were clipped, like she was holding something back. Even the one day she had been on the phone, talking in a near-whisper, her expression was blank and her words were the sharp staccato melody sticking out of the bass line’s whole notes.  
It took months of seeing the girl twice a day on the morning route from East 25th to Central Station (and the afternoon route that was obviously vice-versa) for the girl to say something to her. The words stuck like skin to hot glue in her mind, clipped and even-tongued:  
“Is there a reason you haven’t taken your eyes off me since I started taking this bus? Lord, it’s been two months, and I am starting to get worried.”  
Kanaya’s reply was immediate, probably too much so: “Three.”  
“Excuse me?” The girl tilted her chin, and Kanaya couldn’t help but notice how well the gesture suited her.  
“Three. It’s been three months since you began boarding this bus,” she said, holding up three fingers for emphasis. When the girl refused her any reply but a blink, Kanaya averted her eyes and let her hand drop to the pole she was leaning against. She rubbed the heated, grungy metal with a thoughtful thumb.  
“I’m good with dates,” she fudged.  
“Maybe a bit too much so.”  
Kanaya offered the smallest of smiles, and to her surprise it was returned with only a hint of scorn.  
“If you don’t mind my asking, what is your name?” Kanaya said after a short silence, when the smiling had grown awkward.  
“What’s yours?” It was a wager, and they both knew it.  
“Kanaya Maryam.”  
“That’s unique. I’m Rose.” She paused. “I don’t give up my last name until the second awkward bus meeting, sorry.”  
Kanaya chuckled at what she assumed was supposed to be a joke, even though Rose looked entirely—and a bit sinisterly—serious. “That is acceptable. I must say, Ms. Rose, I am thoroughly delighted to finally make your acquaintance.”  
“Likewise,” she replied. Her hand wasn’t raised for a short shake between strangers, so Kanaya assumed that physical dealings were not what she considered to be necessary.  
“Rose, why do you take this bus?” Kanaya asked after a minute or so of silence, the bus harshly bouncing and jerking its way down the busy main street.  
The girl smirked, tucking a stray strand of white-gold hair behind her ear. “Why do you?”  
“Work.”  
“Where do you work?” Rose asked. She folded her hands on her knee, now turned fully toward Kanaya.  
“Why do you take this bus?”  
They shared a playful grin, and Rose replied, “I take this bus for the same reason you do, Maryam.”  
“Kanaya,” she corrected. “Call me Kanaya.”  
Rose didn’t react physically, instead asking again: “Where do you work?”  
“I’m a clothes designer. I have a small office on the outskirts of Central Plaza. I do mostly wedding dresses, occasionally prom and quinceañera designs.” Kanaya stated. “And yourself?”  
“I’m a therapist,” Rose replied shortly.  
Kanaya recognized that she was trying to draw a reaction, but she refused to give in so quickly. “That’s certainly an interesting line of work.”  
“It could stand to be more eventful. Mostly, I just get children who try and convince me they have an attention disorder so they can deal the pills out to other problem kids.”  
Kanaya chuckled at how easily the words came. “Do you prescribe them?”  
“Sometimes. If they’ve given me enough of a reason to do so, I suppose I do.”  
Kanaya didn’t request further explanation, instead letting the conversation fall to silence. This time, it was Rose who spoke up.  
“Mar—Kanaya, have you ever designed a simple gown? Something one might wear to a birthday party at a fine restaurant?”  
“Why do you ask?” Kanaya replied. She had taken a handheld mirror and a pressed powder palette from her purse, and she was dusting a tawny foundation on the tip of her nose.  
“My mother is turning fifty-five, and she wants to have some snorefest party with all her drinking friends, and I am expected to be there as well. Alas, I have nothing to wear.”  
Kanaya snapped the mirror shut and stuffed her belongings into her jade, snakeskin-patterned purse. As a reply, she snatched a business card out of the front pocket and held it out to Rose between her two first fingers.  
“Come by tomorrow on your lunch break and I’ll see what I can do.”  
Rose took the card and read over it, then stuck it in the front pocket of her jeans. “That sounds like a weighted proposition, but I most certainly will.”  
Kanaya shrugged. “It might be. I guess you’ll have to see, won’t you?”  
A few minutes went by of similar verbal battles that both women found oddly amusing, until Kanaya asked the dreaded question of public transportation:  
“Rose, would you mind too terribly if I took a seat?”  
Predictably, the blonde girl shrugged and averted her eyes, and Kanaya slid into the seat next to her.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a Christmas present for a forum buddy of mine. :)  
> Merry Christmas, everyone!


End file.
